The View Up Here
by Claro3
Summary: Pilot Mostly Cannon: Hilda overhears Daniel and Betty, from the top of the stairs. Hilda has an opinion.


So... This show is my new drug. I love it. I can't get enough of it. Most of all, I love being able to little ficlets that fit withing the framework of a given episode. "Gift" was AU, I know, but this is not. I think I prefer this one.

I'm still hoping to find a beta for Ugly Betty fics, if anyone's interested...

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The View Up Here 

Pilot (Mostly Cannon): Hilda overhears Daniel and Betty, from the top of the stairs. Hilda has an opinion.

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"Betty!" She recognized something in the set of his shoulders, the hopeful way he said her sister's name. It was good. It was very, very bad. 

He said nothing when Walter went on his little rant. Stood back, out of the way. She wasn't exactly sure why. Probably, she would decide later, because he was too unsure of himself, because he didn't want to make any mistakes.

"I want to talk." That was a sincere voice. She couldn't imagine anyone telling a lie and having it sound like that. The space he gave Betty before following her into the next room, the way he reset his shoulders, straightened his back a little more- Hilda appreciated that.

"Nice place." She hardly caught the words, though Betty seemed to. His reaction to her quip was… idiotic, to say the least. So maybe he had some manners (maybe!), but he was showing himself to be a stupid little rich boy after all.

The apology. Hilda's fingers danced over her collarbone, her breathing stopped (God forbid she miss a single syllable of this) and her ears strained. She could not help, though, having a comment about every sentence he churned out. To her credit, she did not vocalize them.

"Betty, I'm so sorry." ("Yeah, you better be!") "You didn't deserve any of what I put you though." ("No, she did not.") "I listened to all the wrong people about a lot of things…" ("_So_ lame.") "And I have no one to blame but myself." ("No… No, you don't. Stand-up thing to say, though.")

And then Betty let him have it. And Hilda smiled wider than she had in months. Her baby sister, finally standing up for herself.

And the suit-man (it was Hilda's name for him, and unlikely to change at any time in the near or distant future) took it. Standing up.

"…problems you'll never understand."

"Try me. Betty, we've all got problems." It was so softly said, and so heartfelt, that if he had been Walter, Hilda would have run down the stairs shouting "take him back!" at the top of her lungs.

Ah, and Betty was off again. ("Good for you, good for you!")

Hilda was passionate, yes, and part of that was being quick to anger. The other part was being quick to forgive- to love. To take someone into her heart, as a friend, a family member, a lover. Betty was not so fiery, and that restraint, which Hilda in many ways considered a defect of character, sometimes made it difficult for the younger Suarez girl to truly appreciate the emotions of others. Knowing that about her sister, Hilda wondered if Betty truly appreciated the amount of difficulty with which Daniel spoke of his brother- the amount of himself he was giving to her, which she was free to guard or destroy as she saw fit.

"I could never compare my problems to yours, but they are mine. Nothing's ever easy."

Hilda's dancing fingers stopped. Her hand flattened against her chest, above her heart. ("Oh, Betty, oh, Betty, don't ruin this.")

He was talking again. About Betty's layout. When he told her- the way he said that he thought it was smart (and beautiful!)- Hilda felt her heart pump just a bit harder. With the rush of blood came a rush of emotion. Her pleasure at Daniel's praise (Betty deserved every word of it) transmuted, with rapidity, into anger at Walter.

How did he expect to win Betty back with whining and "it takes longer than that to digest corn", when a man like Daniel Meade came all the way from Manhattan to beg Betty- ("If only Santos would talk to me like that!")- to work for him, to do a job girls would kill each other for… "Oh, Betty, take him back…" The words were out of her mouth before she knew she was speaking, but they were (she hoped) too soft for anyone downstairs to hear.

"…otherwise I'll probably be out of a job as well." The attempt to laugh it off- oh, he couldn't be so bad. The throat clearing, the long silence (what more did he have to say to her? Want to say to her? Want her to say?), the floorboards shifting under a few slow, uncertain steps, and then the embarrassed flight out the front door- Hilda was won over. She could not stay angry at him, for what Betty had spoken of. He deserved to sweat, yes, but he'd done a bit of that already…

Hilda bounded down the stairs, out the door, and down the sidewalk just as Daniel Meade pulled open the door of his car.

"Hey!"

He turned.

"Yes…?"

"You Daniel Meade?"

"Yes…"

Hilda paused for a minute, self-conscious under his gaze. She must look so ridiculous to this man, almost as silly as Betty- people from her world didn't mix well with people from his. She swallowed, took a breath, squeezed her hands together, and spoke.

"I- I'm Hilda. Hilda Suarez- Betty's sister."

"Oh… Oh. Nice- nice to…" He closed the door of the car, stepped towards her, extended a hand. He was smiling broadly. She could not find any falsity in the expression. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hilda."

She took his proffered hand, shook it briefly, then withdrew. Was this the sort of nervous inadequacy Betty felt all day? "Um, yeah… Look, I, I just wanted to say, that, uh…"

His hands were in his pockets, his smile, mostly faded, seemed somehow frozen, and there was a slight frown starting between his eyes. Every aspect of his body was waiting… for her to finish… so he could… leave. Hilda wanted very, very badly to mutter "never mind" and run back into her house.

She didn't.

"I wanted to say that you did good in there."

The smile was back- boyish, surprised, bemused. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, that don't mean I like you or nothing, you treated my sister pretty badly…"

"I know I did, I know… And I feel… I feel really, really bad about it." He was rubbing the back of his neck, nervously, staring at the ground. Hilda felt, now, as if she were talking to a real person.

"What you said, about… about how you couldn't compare your problems to hers, but they were still yours?"

"Um… Yeah?"

"That was good. You should talk like that more- be… I don't know, honest, or whatever you want to call it. You're not a bad guy."

A pause. No smile, but something… Whatever the look on his face was, Hilda was sure it was good.

"Thank you."

"No sweat." She started back towards her house, then turned around again. "She'll be there tomorrow, don't worry." His face said clearly that he did. "Don't worry! I'll drag her back by the hair if I have to." He snorted, grinned. "But, hey, you listen now. If you hurt my sister again…"

"You'll be dragging me around by the hair?"

"Exactly."

They smiled at one another, in a way that made Hilda feel as if they were in on a great secret, while the whole rest of the world (and, best of all, Betty) was out.

She was at the front of her house before he was in his car. Halfway into the backseat, hanging onto the door, he called out to her.

"Hilda?"

"Yeah?"

"You… You're a good sister. Betty is very lucky to have you."

"Oh… Wow, thanks."

It was only after the town car's taillights began to fade that Hilda realized she was still grinning, and that she was still in, while the rest of the world was out.

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